


Another One About The Bite

by orphan_account



Series: Much More Spier-Like [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Trans Peter Parker, it's a pretty clear cut story, like theres not much to say, this is going to be a series of shorts but this seemed like the best way to kick it off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 13:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14594388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Peter Parker can't be trans in the MCU, we saw him without a shirt on and he was flat/didn't have scars!”Boy wakes up one day and is just fucking yolked with spider powers, and whoever heard of a spider that nursed 'her' young?Peter wakes up, impossibly, in a new body. Just another day-after-the-bite fic.





	Another One About The Bite

“Pete! You still alive in there?”

“Yes, Ben,” Peter said automatically before he was fully awake. 

“Alright, kiddo. Just checking in.”

The fall of Ben's feet was heavier than usual, like he was stomping. That, more than anything else, was what got Peter to stir. Was Ben mad? He stomped when he was mad but his voice had sounded playful and teasing like it did anytime he slept past noon on a weekend. 

A door shut, so loud Peter would have sworn it had been slammed if the thin apartment walls hadn't remained still.

“He said he had a ton of homework, are you sure you want to let him sleep this late?”

“Hah! He can do it tomorrow.” 

Peter made a face as he heard his uncle kiss his aunt, but the lack of apparent anger was enough to make him bury his face deeper into his pillow and hunker down deeper into his comforter. He felt so cold . . . he had made a full blanket cocoon around himself but it captured none of his body heat and the thermostat was too far to reach from his bed. He settled despite the chill, and he let the exhaustion take him again. 

The next time he woke up it was to May knocking on his door, and her voice was tight and had a worried pinch. “Peter? Honey, are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, though he was no more awake than when Ben knocked on his door.

“You've been sleeping all day, are you sure you're okay?”

Peter grumbled and pulled his blankets off his head but May was right. It WAS dark. Peter fumbled for the phone on his pillow and was met with a brilliant 8:26 that made his eyes hurt. Peter sat bolt upright because what the fuck that couldn't possibly be right?

His door opened a crack and hallway light flooded in and Peter saw May peeking in. “Are you sick?”

“Uh,” Peter dropped his phone groggily and looked up. Was he sick? He felt cold, sure, but other than that he felt great. “Just tired. Sorry, I'm awake now.” Peter swung his legs out of bed and rubbed his eyes. 

He felt May's eyes on him before she sighed and flicked the light to his room on. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and recoiled. “Alright. Well, I wanted to tell you this is your last chance for dinner. Ben made – have you had that on this whole time?” The sudden sharpness of her tone caught Peter off guard and he stared at her.

“What?”

“Your binder, Peter.”

“No!” Peter flushed. He knew better than that! “I'm not wearing it!”

May raised her eyebrow and looked pointedly at his chest before she dropped it. “Uncle Ben-” Yikes, she was mad. They were only 'Aunt May' and 'Uncle Ben' when May was mad at him. “-made piccata. I haven't put it in the fridge yet so it's still hot.” She ducked out from his door, leaving it cracked and Peter rubbed the back of his neck. 

He felt tired. Like, bone-deep, stomach-sinking tired. Maybe he WAS sick. He just wanted to sleep and he felt so, so cold, and the sound of May getting a plate in the kitchen sounded like it was happening right next to his ear. Peter winced and reached for the Midtown High hoodie next to his bed and pulled it on because he wasn't wearing a binder, didn't feel like putting one on, but didn't want to see the soft swell of his chest. And it added a layer over his threadbare tank for warmth.

Peter picked up his glasses and set them on his nose as he stood, then was almost forced to sit again when he tried to focus and felt a throb behind his eyes. Peter hissed a curse and set his glasses back down on the beside table. He blinked a few times to refocus his eyes and bit back the nausea that followed. Great. Stupid growing eyes, he had JUST updated his prescription three months ago. No helping it, though, and if nothing else the frame was still usable.

“May,” he said as he walked from his room, “My glasses are out of focus again.”

“Guess that's why you were so tired, Pete,” Ben said from his perch on the couch.

“I'll make an appointment with your ophthalmologist. Babe?”

“Yeah, I can take him.” Ben set his book on his knee. “you ready to miss your first class on Monday?”

Despite his weariness, Peter grinned. “I don't know. How will I survive without art class?”

May swatted him as he sat down at the table. “Don't blame painting just because you're bad at it.” Peter laughed and she smiled at him as she set a plate in front of him. It was nice whenever Ben wasn't too tired to cook – he had taken it upon himself to 'master' Italian cooking once he realized that his Italian wife could burn water. He was a far cry from mastery, his midwestern tastes tended to creep into everything he made but Peter adored it.

Ravenous hunger suddenly hit Peter like a wall, and like a man possessed he began to devour his dinner. 

“Jeeze, Pete. Want to try breathing?”

“Sorry, just really hungry,” Peter said without looking up at his uncle. He heard the couch cushions rustle slightly as May sat beside her husband and leaned over to look at what he was reading. It sounded so . . . loud. 

“That's what he gets for sleeping all day,” Ben breathed into his wife's ear and Peter paused. He wasn't supposed to hear that, he didn't think. Peter dug a knuckle behind his ear, wondering if they had popped too much while he was sleeping. He didn't have long to think on it, though, before his stomach drove him to eat more. He finished his plate in record time. Actually, he finished his third plate in the time it usually took him to reluctantly pick at a single serving.  
It was enough to make both of his guardians genuinely worried but they only expressed their concern with a couple jokes that Peter brushed off. 

“I'm sorry,” Peter mumbled between mouthfuls, “I'm just so hungry for some reason.”

He had demolished all the would-be leftovers that May usually froze for later meals, but even after scraping his plate clean he wished there was more food. He was hungry in a way he'd never been before. His stomach hurt, his head felt light, and it felt like his bones had been emptied out. He was still so, so hungry but the idea of asking for more made his face burn and despite it all he just washed off his plate and set it on the rack to dry. 

“Thanks Ben,” Peter said, “I'm going to go back to bed, though.” 

May and Ben shared a look, but May was the one to speak up. “Sweetie . . . are you sure you're okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired and hungry.” 

Peter trudged from the kitchen to the connected living room and kissed Ben on his temple and May on her forehead before he trudged back to his own room. As soon as his door clicked shut he heard May and Ben start talking again and it was still so, so loud. May was worried, as usual, and Ben was grounding her, as usual. Peter wished they weren't so loud.

Peter shrugged off his hoodie, but when he went for his tank he was very suddenly confronted with why his Aunt May thought he had been wearing a binder. 

'Karen' Parker had a body Peter couldn't rightly stand. His hips were always pleasantly thin, and his shoulders were broad-ish. But his chest had always been nauseatingly . . . ample. But now his chest was perfectly flat, and the front of his tank hung limp at the front. Peter stared down at his chest before he furiously rubbed his eyes and looked again. 

Still flat.

The most logical assumption was that Peter had, somehow, fallen asleep with his binder on and forgotten about it but that was the thing. He couldn't just forget about his binder. His binder was uncomfortable at the best of times and when he slept with it on his ribs ached like he'd been in a metal vice. 

Peter pulled off his shirt quickly, and brought a hand quickly to his flat chest.

Muscles.

His chest was hard in the way muscles were, fatty tissue somehow burned away by the exercise he hadn't done. Besides, even if he HAD been working out he'd still have breasts. Cis-women boy builders had them.  
Peter shifted to look in his mirror as he felt himself up and it looked just a weird as it felt. His chest was . . . perfect? And only his chest, but the soft flesh that sat over his hips and the small layer of fat on his very weak belly had been replaced by hard, defined muscles.  
Peter was speechless. He had started T only a week before so, like, what the honest to god fuck? He looked more 'masculine' than most of the cis kids his age. He was, for no reason, absolutely shredded. 

Yeah.

Okay.

Alright.

This was a dream. He was dreaming.

It was a very nice dream, and not unlike ones he had before. Usually, though he wasn't shredded and he had a dick in those wistful dreams. He didn't need to feel himself up to know he didn't have one of those. So it was a nice dream, but he'd had nicer.

Peter shook his head before he flicked his lights off and climbed back into bed. He'd wake up in a body that wasn't his again, in skin that didn't fit. And Peter almost resented himself for having such a comforting dream because he knew his dysphoria would be that much worse when he woke again. But while it lasted, it was nice to feel like his body had up an gotten ripped over the course of a night.

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyy, short but fun to write at least. The net couple I have planned involve all-natural spider repellent and teeth.
> 
> HMU on my tumblr at tubbsthetrashcan.tumblr.com (fair warning, there is a LOT of my hero academia because I'm superhero trash) and if you want to help me eat consider sending me a ko-fi at ko-fi.com/ABXTubbs


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